


The Last Thing on My Mind

by runicmagitek



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bickering, F/F, Femslash February, Flirting, Mid-Canon, Missing Scene, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the events which unfolded at the Winter Palace, none of them compared to seeing a familiar face again for Leliana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Thing on My Mind

With the evening simmering down, everyone present at the Winter Palace secured enough information to spread rumors for years. The tidbits acquired from overheard conversations from nobles were invigorating, but Leliana also required to breathe, preferably fresh air. Granted, Leliana was adamant to strike down those circulating slander about the Inquisition—particularly with the Inquisitor, after all, she had done to ensure the evening _wasn_ _’t_ a disaster—though her duty as a bard was put on hold.

She excused herself from a circle of acquaintances to seek out refuge elsewhere. The dance floor seduced her before, but it was the balcony tempting her with a cool breeze which won her over. Leliana caught Josephine’s eyes upon passing her. Yvette remained by her side, chatting away and still trying to gush about Josephine’s past. One day, Leliana would sit down with her and milk Yvette of whatever juicy details she had on Josephine. _Another time,_ Leliana kept to herself. She nodded to Josephine and kept a smile upon her face to tell her all was well. Josephine returned the gesture and they parted ways.

The voices vibrating along the walls faded out to gentle echoes the closer Leliana drew to the open balcony. No one else occupied the terrace, much to Leliana’s surprise. Solitude was hers at long last. Her body ached for a long stretch—oh, perhaps one of those lush baths with Orlesian salts—though what she truly wished for was to be rid of the damn outfit which the advisers as a whole agreed to wear. The blasted material comprised of a mixture of wool and other fabrics, every single one itchy. Ten other outfits came to mind, all of which were far more fashionable on top of being suitable for Orlais, let alone the Winter Palace. But Leliana couldn’t strip on the balcony—not exactly _that_ type of party.

Especially not when she discovered she wouldn’t be alone on said balcony.

Leliana took all of two steps past the doorway when she spotted a figure off to the side leaning on the banister. At first, she intended to apologize for intruding and be on her way to find other means of acquiring fresh air. Except she recognized that posture, that shade of black hair, and that sliver of a profile, hinting enough at the woman’s face to reveal who she was.

When she first spotted her—from a distance, however—Leliana dismissed it as an illusion. Morrigan had left in the middle of the night since the Hero of Ferelden refused to give in to her ritual. Instead, he opted to slay the Archdemon and sacrifice himself in hopes of saving the people of Ferelden. As for Morrigan, no one knew of her whereabouts. Leliana had her suspicions when it came to the identity of the Arcane Adviser assisting Celene; who else would be better suited to the task than Morrigan herself?

Without a doubt, the same woman she once deemed an ally and bickered with to no end—always over the concept of a higher power—stood before her. Leliana smiled with her eyes fixed upon Morrigan, wondering if she too loathed the dress she was caged within. Misery did love company, after all.

From Morrigan’s posture alone, she indeed hated her attire. Her shoulders slid up her neck while she hunched over the banister. One hand propped up her chin with her elbow cemented into the stone railing while the other arm splayed out against it. Her fingers drummed both against her cheek and the stone, followed by a sigh. Leliana stifled a giggle at the image of it all.

Though despite Morrigan's sentiments, the dress was beyond impeccable. It might not have been up to the witch's standards, but it was for Orlais. The deep red fabric contrasted against her pale skin. The golden jewelry clutching her throat matched the threads embroidered on the dress. The corset outlined her silhouette and Leliana imagined it brought anyone's attention directly to her exposed cleavage. Of course, there were segments which screamed Morrigan: her bracers and those boots poking out from underneath. If Leliana had money to gamble with, she would have wagered the woman was indeed wearing pants under it all.

The more she gazed upon the outfit, the more Leliana smirked over a recollection which dated well over a decade ago.

“I would sooner let Alistair dress me,” Leliana said, a smirk tugging her lips upward. She folded her arms and inched towards Morrigan. “I do believe those were your exact words.”

To that, Morrigan lifted her head up, straightened her posture, and peeked over her shoulder. Upon realizing who was addressing her, she relaxed again. The glare matched with a scowl left Leliana biting back a grin.

“Should I be applauding your memory, then?” Morrigan arched an eyebrow. “Here I thought you had _far_ better matters to be tending to than what _I_ might have said at some point.”

Leliana closed the distance between the two of them, yet left a gap as she also braced herself against the banister. “Good to see you, too, Morrigan.”

“I don’t see how anything about this is good, save for that _you_ intend to pick up where we last left off and conjure a headache for me to battle.”

“Relax,” she said with a giggle, “I’m not here to badger you. Only wanted to say hello to an old friend.”

Morrigan scoffed. “Is that what we are?”

Truth be told, Leliana viewed her as more than a mere friend. Leliana claimed Morrigan to be beautiful and is wasn’t just to hear herself speak. Yet Leliana knew better than to be hung up on what had to be a mere crush. Plenty of men and women occupied her mind, heart, and bed in between the years of Morrigan’s absence; it didn’t mean, however, that Leliana banished the woman outright from her thoughts. Some nights when sleep was a cruel mistress, she thought of the woman at the campgrounds, secluding herself to her own corner and refusing to mingle. Leliana offered multiple times for Morrigan to share her tent. Nothing ever came of it. Quite a shame.

But for now, a friend would suffice. So long as it meant not scaring Morrigan away.

“I certainly don’t think ill of you,” Leliana continued. “Quite the opposite.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, you were never one to believe to begin with. Better experience it and trust your gut, yes?” Morrigan didn’t answer. “Come now, did you think you could hide away forever?”

“I’m not hiding now.”

“No, but you had to know that I, of all people, would notice.” Leliana dared to inch closer. “And in _that_ dress.”

Morrigan caught her eyes in disdain. “Excuse me?”

“So you _did_ forget.”

“Like I said—I have far better matters to—”

“I remember describing a dress for you to wear back then. Something in a dark red with gold embroidery.” Leliana squinted and leaned in. A tiny gasp bubbled to life. “Velvet! Just as I had told you all that time ago!”

Morrigan crossed her arms and scowled as if to hide the garment Leliana fawned over. In the pale moonlight, Leliana swore a hint of blush warmed Morrigan’s cheeks.

“Did you come out here to mock me?” Morrigan demanded.

“Anything but. Truth be told, I was hoping to find a reprieve from the evening. We all need that much.”

The muscles in Morrigan’s shoulders softened. “I can agree with that.”

“I didn’t expect to find someone else on the balcony, let alone _you_.” She couldn’t help herself from smiling. “It’s like you haven’t aged a day. You’re just a beautiful as when we were last together.”

Morrigan averted her gaze, a long lock of black hair covering a majority of her face. “Are you finished?”

“Should I not be singing songs of your beauty?”

“...Have you been?”

“No, but I can start.” A reluctant sigh left Morrigan. “Or I can stick to private compliments. If anything,” she purred out, “I almost feel flattered to think that _maybe_ I had a hand in this evening’s attire for you.”

“What ever makes you say that?”

“It’s in the details, Morrigan! I had envisioned a dress just like this for someone like you! It’s better than I could ever dream of.”

Another pause. “You believe so?”

“Unlike the nobles attending tonight, I do no not speak words for the sake of conversation, Morrigan. I’ve always chosen them wisely.”

Bringing her head to center, Morrigan dropped her gaze to smooth out the front of her dress. Leliana smiled over how it flowed and submitted to Morrigan’s touch.

“To speak plainly,” Morrigan said in a soft voice, bringing her bright eyes back to Leliana, “a _certain_ bard might have once suggested a particular ensemble to me. ‘Twas in my best interest that I happened to find an outfit with a striking, similar appearance.” She scrunched her nose. “Except for the shoes. Nothing in all of Thedas could save _those_ pathetic _things_.”

Leliana held back her tongue, not wishing to outright laugh; the image of Morrigan berating an attendant over a pair of shoes was a humorous thought.

“So I _did_ play a part in it,” Leliana teased, slipping down further to Morrigan.

And she didn't flinch. "Yes. Yes, you did. There. Happy? Now go sing your silly songs about how you flustered Celene’s Arcane Adviser.”

“I can’t tell if you’re more upset with me or the fact you had to wear a dress to begin with.”

Morrigan parted her lips, stopped, then closed them. After a huff, she found her words again. “I would be lying if I said I _hadn_ _’t_ thought about setting this blasted contraption on fire the minute I was alone.”

“Trust me, you’re in good company.”

Morrigan scanned Leliana. Confusion washed over her, replacing the distaste once soaked into her features. "At least, you have more sensible clothing. Not appealing to the eye by any means, but... not a _dress_.”

“I’d much rather wear a dress.”

“Would you like to trade?”

“I believe I’d be doing you a disservice. This material is beyond stiff and itchy!”

“Then you should burn yours the moment you have a chance, as well.”

Leliana leaned in, her shoulder bumping with Morrigan’s. “Could I enlist a certain mage’s help in that?”

“And _what_ do you mean by that? I know how your mind works; surely you have an ulterior motive.”

Well then. The act could only go on for so long. And to think that the Inquisition’s spymaster was a master of the shadows, yet couldn’t trick the woman who plagued her mind for years.

“Perhaps,” Leliana purred. “I _have_ been known to have a trick or two up my sleeves.”

“Hard to keep those intact when said sleeves are burning.”

Laughter rolled out of Leliana. “Whatever it takes to help you out of your dress.”

Morrigan’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”

“You _did_ say you wanted to be free of it. I can only imagine three attendants helped you secure it this evening. I promise I could have you out of it in less time.”

“And _then_ what?”

“What do you mean _and then what_? And then you’d be free of a dress, silly.”

“No, I’m rather certain this leads down some lewd path of yours that I don’t care to entertain.”

With a deep breath, Leliana perched her chin upon Morrigan's shoulder. She wasn't met with hateful magic, thus, she considered it to be a good omen she remained in Morrigan's good graces. "You're entertaining me now, Morrigan. Anything else would be extra." After a beat, she smirked. "Besides, would you sooner have Alistair help you undress—”

“Do not,” Morrigan snapped, each word enunciated, “finish that sentence.”

“So you’d prefer it to be _me_?”

“I’d prefer it if this topic never surfaced to begin with.”

“Then I won’t waste your time any further.”

Before Morrigan could squeeze in another word, Leliana lifted her head up enough to press her lips into the woman’s cheek. Her mouth lingered upon the soft flesh, wishing nothing more than to trail her lips towards that dark pout which entranced her long ago. Leliana reined back right as Morrigan spun about, consumed with shock.

“Though if you _do_ still need assistance with ridding yourself of your dress, my offer still stands.” With a slight bow, Leliana backtracked for the door. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Morrigan.”

Pivoting on her heels, Leliana marched back inside. The resounding voices of nobles greeted her along with the warmth of the music and rich scent only found in Orlais. Soon enough, the crowd swallowed her up, but when Leliana peered back to the balcony, she still eyed the woman who lingered there.

Morrigan’s eyes were cast elsewhere, yet her fingers skimmed over where Leliana bestowed her with a kiss. If only she had the ability to read minds, even if for an instant, just to peek into Morrigan’s thoughts. Maybe the sentiment was mutual. Maybe it wasn’t. Whatever the case, Leliana was grateful to not be shoved away by the woman.

When Leliana peeked back to the balcony later that night, Morrigan had long vacated the premise, yet she remained in Leliana’s thoughts. She licked her lips, smiled to herself, and returned to the worn conversations with others, only to be captivated by ideas her imagination conjured.


End file.
